There Will Be Five Moments
by peregrinepandora
Summary: Oneshot. The five moments in Remus' life when he misses Sirius terribly. Mild HBP spoilers.


_there__ will be five moments in his life when he misses you terribly._

.  
. 

In June, he held her hand for the first time, and even if he was happy then, he still missed you; except she managed to snuggle into his chest just like you used to, and that made it a little more bearable. Of course, he loves her, you know he loves her. But there will be five moments in his life when he misses you terribly.

The first comes on their first night together, after she's peeled away his robes, and the flimsy, wrinkled, linen shirt he loves so much. When she runs her finger down that long, jagged scar on his chest, he flinches and then he runs. He's leaning on the bar round the terrace, and lucky for him, she knows what he needs. He thinks about the last time he saw you, and about the last time he had you, and he starts to pace, his heart aching on alternate beats. For eight unendurable minutes, he paces, running his hands through his hair and staring up at the crescent moon.

"Oh, God, Padfoot, _what am I doing_?" he whispers.

And he misses you worst of all when he wakes up before the sun and he's breathing in the scent of hair that doesn't smell like yours.

The second time is after Harry wins. Red and gold sparks are flying all about, and he can't find her. He's desperately looking for someone he loves to hold on to now that they're finally free of this, for a while anyhow. He can just see Harry--Merlin, he looks like James!--and for a second he's seventeen again and sending some advice your way that he knows will be unheeded and you're playing gobstones and wizard's chess and no one's killed anyone or betrayed anyone or lost anyone. You're all there, healthy and happy and whole.

He's struck motionless on the battlefield, his wand still raised, and he can barely breathe. She runs up behind him and throws her arms around his middle in a manner—it pains him to think it—much like yours. His stomach lurches and his throat burns, and she turns him around to let him cry on her shoulder. And he'd have killed or betrayed or lost anything for that shoulder to be yours.

The third time is on his wedding day, as Harry helps him fasten the cufflinks on his dress robes. He hates himself twice over, once for wishing you were his best man, and then for wishing you were his only man. Harry leaves him staring out the window, thinking of all the things you and he never would have had. When he promises to love her forever, in sickness and in health, as long as they both shall live, a part of him hears you saying, "_My bloody cousin, Remus! At least you've kept within the family!_" and he hears you laugh, and that makes your absence beside him even more of a black hole than before.

He misses you more when he sees how beautiful she is. And even more still when he remembers that he loves her, too.

The fourth time is three years later, after a particularly harrowing full moon. He sits on their bed in the dull morning light as she tends his wounds, and when she moves behind him to treat a long gash on his back, she gasps a little and clutches her belly.

"It's been all night?" he asks her, and while she tries to brush him off, she knocks over a lamp and a trash bin, and he knows by now that clumsiness is nervousness as far as she's concerned.

She tells him not to owl the mediwitch yet, "Let's just stay here, can we?"

And for the first time, as he holds her and encourages her and runs his hands through the hair she's Metamorphosed back to respectable mousy brown, it is she counting on him; and he hasn't felt this needed since you. At once, she leans into his chest and groans with the anguish he's feeling, and he echoes it with a throaty call in a lower key. As they lay clutching each other for strength, he experiences another first. He doesn't wish she were you. And in a strange, heart-swelling way, that makes him miss you more.

When she's finally asleep, and awarm, tinything is melting into his chest, when he feels truly happy for thefirst time in years,he wishes you were there to share it. He hasn't named his daughter, with her thin, wispy curls, and her heart-shaped lips puckered in her sleep. He'd have asked you to be her godfather, too. And so he misses you enough for both of them.

The last time is just how you wanted it. He misses you with his last breath, as you missed him with yours. You know very well it's not that heartbreaking, sob-caught-in-your-throat, can't-breathe-without-it-hurting missing. It's that feeling you have when you're a stone's toss from home.

Her lips are on his forehead as he goes, and he's thinking of her, too, and loving her in a way he never loved you. But it's you he's waiting to see again, not her. And you've been waiting far too long for him.

* * *

Author's note: I love this piece. That's really all I have to say. I've never put anything on "paper" so easily. Hope you like it, too! 

All standard disclaimers apply. Go JKR. Except for, you know, the thing with the guy, for which I will never forgive you, unless he's not actually evil. Thank you.


End file.
